Find your Footing
by Stuck in Oblvion
Summary: SPOILERS S12E17 Alternate Ending What if Mick Davies survived? He knows too much and now has to escape the British Men of Letters. Can he warn the Winchesters about the impending extermination of American hunter by Ketch and Dr. Hess, before it's too late? Mick has been violently ousted from the only home he's ever known, will he find a place to belong amongst Team Free Will?
1. Chapter 1

_Hey all! SPOILERS SPOILERS for Season 12 Episode 17. So the scenario is that Mick Davies survived the shot by Arthur Ketch and is determined to warn the Winchesters about Dr. Hess and Ketch. I know its somewhat unrealistic but its Supernatural, anything can happen. Really wished they didn't kill Mick._

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

Mick Davies had a knack for surviving. As a child he was left to the streets pickpocketing coins to keep starvation at bay. And even after finding a home with the British Men of Letters, under the supervision of Dr. Hess, he had not taken it for granted. Instead he poured every ounce of energy he had into exterminating monsters and again, surviving.

It was not until he met the Winchesters and the other American hunters that he realized he had a will of his own. And he could make his own choices.

It was this change of heart that left Mick Davies slumped over a table in Safehouse 1426 with a bullet hole in the back of his head.

"It's over", Dr. Hess announced, "The grand experiment of recruiting American hunters has failed, utterly."

She looked at Mick's lifeless body before looking to Arthur Ketch, her trusted executioner.

Ketch remained emotionless, "What would you like me to do?"

Hess threw the case files she was holding on the table before answering, "Exterminate them. Every last one."

She then walked away, her heels clicking toward the door.

"What shall I do with Davies", Ketch asked quickly causing her to stop in her tracks before staring daggers at Ketch.

"Send a team to dispose of this mess. He is no longer one of us. Take the files and follow me, this safehouse has been compromised. We must move on", Dr. Hess said sharply before leaving the room.

Ketch followed obediently not daring to look back at Mick instead he found his mind wandering to Mary. She would have to be dealt with.

The door closed and latched the sound resounding throughout the room before settling in silence, only the drips of blood falling from the table could be heard.

Then a sharp gasp.

The bloodied body over the table gently shifted. He then found his hands moving to the sides of the table trying to sit up only to fall to the ground. Mick groaned as he fell on his side in a puddle of his own blood. He was in pain, terrible agonizing pain but beyond that he was disoriented his mind desperately trying to piece together what had happened.

Minutes passed as he willed his body to move coming to his hands and knees. Finally he opened his eyes seeing red. There was blood everywhere, on his hands, blazer and pants. It was then he realized it was his own, a hand shakily coming to the back of his head.

Bullet wound.

He was hemorrhaging still, his hand coming away warm and red. His stomach turned at the sight causing an overwhelming dizziness. Swallowing his fears, he crawled to the nearest wall leaning against it.

The Englishman cursed as the memories slowly came back. Hess, she ordered them to be dead, the American hunters. The Winchesters.

But she did not shoot him, he remembered that much. That only left one person; Ketch.

With the strength he had left Davies grasped the table in front of him to stand keeping a firm hold on the adjacent wall. He needed to escape, to warn the Winchesters. He owed them as much.

He would not be taken out so easily. His instincts kicked in allowing him to focus on the one thing he was best at, surviving.

As quickly as he could he neared the exit, knowing he had to get to his car. His supplies were there and his phone, whether or not he could drive was another matter.

He stepped out into the cold air finding his body shaking unbearably. No doubt the blood loss. Nearing his car he heard a sound and moved to grab his gun.

Gone. He must have dropped it when he fell. Cursing silently, he squatted down close to the car trying to see the source of the noise in the dark.

But he didn't have time to play it safe, he knew that he was supposed to be dead. That if he was discovered there would be no escaping.

Fumbling in his jacket for his keys he was able to sneak into the car without a hitch. Keeping his head down he carefully grabbed his phone noting the blood covering his hands.

The Winchesters, he should call them.

But not here. He had to get away.

With his hands on the steering wheel he stared at the road, his vision was already darkening and it was hard to keep focus.

Shakily he took a breath before starting the ignition and blasting down the road.

* * *

 _So, I will try to continue this depending on the responses I get. Any tips, criticism or spelling errors please let me know. Thanks!_

 _-Sio_


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey! I just would like to say thank you for all the positive feedback and comments. It's truly appreciated. So I really worked hard to write this and give you all an update as soon as I could, so this was written rather quickly and thats why its still so short. Hopefully by next week I will have time to write more for you all. Thanks again! And I hope you enjoy._

 _-Sio_

* * *

Mick didn't know how long he was driving or in which direction. His only thoughts were to get away from Ketch and Hess as quickly as possible. But his energy was waning and his only option was to stop or risk passing out at the wheel. Stepping on the breaks he swerved to the right narrowly missing a tree before coming to a full stop.

Mick exhaled letting his hands come shakily off the wheel. Sweat was dripping down his face and a crushing nausea weighed in his gut. He then threw up the contents of his stomach in the passenger seat.

"Bollocks", he cursed wiping the vomit off his mouth.

After a minute he stumbled out of the car in a dizzy haze falling on his hands and knees, inhaling the chilled night air.

He wasn't going to make it much longer. Reaching for his phone he scrolled down the list to Sam Winchester before calling.

It rang. And rang, and went to voicemail. Mick frowned quickly redialing and finding himself sitting on the damp grass below him. It rang-

"This is Dean, Sam's busy at the moment. What do you want Mick?", he grumbled.

Davies sighed, he had wished to speak to the other Winchester finding Sam to be more responsive and sensible however Dean would have to do at the moment. He tried to wet his lips but found his mouth painfully dry. This left his voice hoarse, "Dean listen to me I do not have much time. I have reason to believe you and Sam are in danger."

"What's going on? What happened?", Dean asked angrily, "I knew we shouldn't have trusted you Brits."

"Please listen", he gasped going to lean against the car, "They'll find me soon, I barely escaped. They're after the hunters."

"Mick, where are you? Who's after the hunters?", Dean called out.

"Ketch. I'm sorry Dean, I'm sorry", he cried. Mick blamed himself. He was the bridge between the American hunters and Men of Letters and with his bloody dismissal there was no one to vouch for the Winchesters. Hess was right, the _grand experiment_ was truly over. It was all too much for the Englishman.

Mick felt the coolness of grass against his cheek and knew no more.

"Mick? Mick!", Dean yelled waiting for a response but receiving silence.

"Sammy!", Dean called out through the bunker. Quickly he walked through the bunker turning a corner to the kitchen and running right into his brother.

"Jeez Dean, what's going on?", Sam frowned at his beer soaked flannel and frothy lager.

"Forget something?", Dean said tossing Sam his phone, "Mick just called. All frantic like. It's sounds like he's in trouble. Something about Ketch going after hunters."

"What? Was he ok?", Sam said putting his beer down.

"I don't think so. Mick sounded pretty beat up but he didn't say where he was at", Dean responded glumly.

"I know where he is, put a tracker on his car awhile back. Let's go", Sam urged.

"Wait. What do we owe Mick? For not blowing Eileen's head off", Dean said sarcastically.

Sam rolled his eyes, "Come on Dean. He's trying to warn us. Mick needs our help."

"Fine", Dean sighed, "But I don't like this. Not at all."

* * *

"It should be coming up this road", Sam murmured to Dean as he made a sharp right.

"We're not even sure he's there, hasn't picked up his phone in hours. Ketch is probably there waiting for us", Dean grumbled slowing down the impala.

"We have to try", Sam said looking out the window, "Slow down up here, I think I see his car."

Dean slowed down turning on the high beams of the impala.

"There! Pull over", Sam shouted jumping out of the car, "I don't see him…"

"Sam", Dean called also stepping out of the car motioning to be quiet and raising his gun. Sam did the same as they moved around the parked vehicle. It was nearing the early hours of the morning, the sun's rays peaking over the horizon. For Kansas it was cold, the morning dew settling like ice on the grass.

Sam shivered in his leather jacket rounding the car before stopping. And then they saw him, slumped over on the ground covered in blood was Mick Davies.

"Mick!", Sam shouted immediately crouching down next to the man. Dean came around the other side of the car checking the perimeter before joining Sam on the other side of the unconscious man.

"Sammy, this doesn't look good. Is he even alive?", Dean whispered as Sam turned Mick over to get a better look at the wound on his head. Micks hair was matted with a thick coat of coagulated blood. From what he could tell the blood was coming from one spot, a small puncture on the back of his skull. The only indication the man was alive was the irregular breaths coming from his mouth.

Sam sighed shakily, "I think so, he's lost a lot of blood. Looks like a gunshot wound…"

Dean closed his eyes for a second before nodding, "Right, well we got to get out of here. Let's get him back to the bunker if he survives that far and get ahold of Cass. We're not equip to deal with this."

"That's for sure", Sam said putting one arm around Micks blood soaked body. Before Dean could move the Englishman jolted eyes fluttering open.

"Mick! Hey relax man, it's us", Sam said earning the man's attention.

Mick gave a feeble groan before looking straight at the Winchesters, "How are you here?"

"Doesn't matter let's get you out of here", Sam said quickly before looking at Dean.

Dean nodded, "Mick, can you stand?"

Mick shook his head and then slumped over on Sam promptly passing out.

"Mick?", Sam asked lightly shaking the man.

"Great, he's out. You get in the back with him and I'll drive", Dean said.

With much effort they were able to lug Mick Davies limp body into the back seat. However they were unable to avoid the mass amount of Mick's blood coating the impala's leather seats despite Deans protests.

"I swear if he survives this he's paying for leather refurbishment. That shit isn't cheap", Dean complained as he started the car and whipped down the road.

Some time passed with relative silence and multiple phone calls.

"Goddamn Cass pick up your phone…", Dean murmured as his phone when to voicemail for the eighth time.

"He pick up?", Sam asked finishing the bandaging around Micks head.

"No", Dean sighed, "I don't have time to worry about Cass and this bloke dying in the back seat."

"Bloke?", Sam said incredulously.

"Person, I don't know. What do you think happened?", Dean sighed rubbing his face.

Sam looked at Mick, unconscious on the seat, "I don't know. But honestly with a shot like that, I'm surprised he's still alive…"

"Especially if Ketch did the shooting, that guy isn't one to leave loose ends", Dean responded keeping his eyes firmly on the road.

"Why would Ketch try to kill Mick? I mean, they're both Men of Letters. We're all on the same team", Sam said sincerely.

Dean chuckled at the statement, "Same team? Maybe two different teams fighting the same fight. I mean we've been trying to make this work but what if this is it. Eileen killed one of them, perhaps that was the final straw".

"It was an accident", Sam countered.

"I know. Hey I'm just speculating here cause right now we got zip to go on. We'll be at the bunker soon, let's see what we can do for Mick before jumping to conclusions", Dean grumbled making a sharp turn, "How's he doing?"

Sam took a moment before responding, "I honestly don't know. He's still breathing."

"Well, I don't know about you but I'm done losing good people. We've been in worse binds; we can handle this. Mick will be fine", Dean said strongly.

But Dean was worried it wouldn't be fine. He had a million thought racing through his mind and in truth he thought it would be a miracle if Mick survived. But they've had plenty of so called miracles happen, so why couldn't they hope for one more.

* * *

 _So, if anyone has any ideas about what the future could entail I would be happy to hear any ideas. I will be busy writing so hopefully another update next week. Thanks and as always please let me know of any spelling errors etc._

 _-Sio_


	3. Chapter 3

_So I'm not used to updating regularly, but I am trying! Writing a bit every day but I wanted to stay true to the characters and ended up going back and watching every episode with Mick hoping to get better insight into his character. So I really appreciate the reviews!_

 _Next, I wanted to be medically accurate without boring you all to death with complexities. Mostly because I work in the medical field and wish to be somewhat true to the nature of what is happening (but I tried to downplay the gory details... so no worries). Finally I'm not writing Cas in yet or Mary for that matter, they've both got a lot on their plates._

 _Thanks for all your glorious feedback and hope you enjoy!_

 _I don't plan on abandoning the story so stay tuned for more!_

 _\- Sio_

* * *

By the time they arrived at the bunker it was morning and the Winchesters could see the full extent Micks current state.

To say he was pale would be an understatement because he was closer to white. In fact as Sam pictured he was as white as ghost, almost translucent. And that was only the skin that wasn't covered in brown dried blood. If it wasn't for his slight tremors they both would have believed him to be dead.

Dean pulled up out in front of the bunker before removing the keys of the impala. He looked at Sam and then to Mick grimly before speaking, "Lets move him to one of the guest rooms. Apply some new bandages and see what we are dealing with. Then we can go from there".

Sam nodded and moved automatically. They're both been in binds before and had their own crude medical experiences from setting each other's bones and pulling uneven stitches together to digging out bullets and packing on motel ice. But this was different because at this point the Winchesters wished they could bring Mick to a hospital. The lifetime of stitching each other did nothing to prepare them for what they had to fix.

Mick now was in one of the many guest rooms of the bunker after a good ten minutes of the Winchesters stumbling down stairs and navigating Micks unconscious form down narrow hallways.

He was on several sheets on top of a full size bed. To say he looked bad would be the understatement of the century.

Dean shook his head in doubt before removing Micks blazer , hoping to get a better idea of what they were working with. But it was somehow worse in his red soaked button down and black slacks. Sam had left momentarily to get the sparse medical supplies they had.

Dean needed to remind himself to be grateful they had Cass on their side healing them up with one touch. In fact the last time he got stitches was a distant memory, Cass had them spoiled.

He went and touched Micks wrist to find a pulse and found him to be incredibly cold. Maybe it was their own adrenaline that allowed them to lose focus on whether his blood soaked clothes were keeping him warm. Dean cursed going for extra blankets in the nearby cabinet.

"Dean, what are you doing?", Sam asked walking into the room to see Dean rummaging around.

"Trying to decide which blanket I want to get covered in blood. He's cold Sammy, I was getting something warm", Dean sighed. He felt like a kid, like he didn't know anything.

Sam nodded placing the armful of supplies down, "Good thinking but we have to get him out of those clothes first, and before that clean the wound."

Dean stood throwing the thick fleece blanket he found on the bedside table, "Alright Dr. Sam, what's next?"

Sam gave a small grin before moving to the bed, "Hold him upright, I'm going to rinse the blood off the wound and see if we can do anything… I mean if the bullet is still in his head-

Deans stomach jolted at the image, he had seen his fair share of gory situations but to think a bullet was still floating around in Micks head was too much.

"Sammy stop, lets just get this done. He's survived this far", Dean said more to reassure himself before clapping his hands together. Sitting on the bed he took Mick gently by the shoulders and held him in a strange hug-like way.

Sam got started. First he placed a towel on Micks back before taking a bottle filled with what Dean presumed to be water and pouring it over the back of his head.

Sam gasped seeing the extent of the injury before placing a wad of gauze over it.

"What is it Sammy?", Dean asked watching the towel soak up the bloody water. Sam shook his head, "Nothing."

Dean sighed, "Is it bad?"

"Yes, sort of. From what I can tell the bullet got sort of caught in his skull… So his brain might not have been damaged too badly", Sam frowned.

"So that's good?", Dean asked trying to follow what his brother was saying.

"Yes and no. His skull took the impact of the bullet, it's kinda mush back here…", Sam said wiping his forehead of sweat.

Dean didn't know what to say, but they had to keep moving forward. They would only know if Mick was alright when he woke up, or if he woke up.

"Let's finish the bandages and get him set up. Then I can give Cass another call", Dean said sternly to Sam who looked like a lost puppy. They wouldn't lose another hunter.

They spent the next hour bandaging before changing Mick into one of Deans clean shirts and a pair of Sams flannel pants that ran way too long for the Englishman.

"I'm going to step out and call Cass", Dean said looking at Sam who was gathering up all the blood soaked garments.

Sam didn't respond though. He was staring at Mick.

"Sammy?", Dean called getting his attention,

"Sorry, yeah go call Cass", he muttered.

"He's going to be alright Sammy", Dean said trying to stay positive despite feeling like he should run from this spiraling situation.

"You don't know that. It's just, we just saw him. How is this happening?", Sam asked knowing very well that Dean didn't have an answer.

He thought of all they've lost for a moment. Bobby came to mind, a stray bullet took out one of the greatest men he'd ever known. That happened. And that wasn't fair.

The world wasn't fair.

"It happened, it happened…", Dean drifted shaking his head before stepping out.

Dean tried to think of why this was different from the others they've lost. It was hard and unbelievably painful every time. However seeing Mick in this state made the Winchesters feel a certain kind of hopeless.

Perhaps it was that they really hoped the British Men of Letters would solve the monster problem in the states, like they did in England. That one day they would all be safe and have a chance at a life without hunting.

Dean knew it was pointless to dream about the impossible.

He dialed Cass, which also seemed like an impossible task seeing that the angel was currently radio silent.

Then he heard Cass's voice, "This is my voicemail. Make your voice… a mail"

"Damn Cass, call me back when you get this. It's important", Dean hung up closing his eyes. It would be a lie to say he wasn't worried about the angel. Dean knew Cass could take care of himself but since almost losing him against Ramiel his mind wondered to the worst possibly reasons why Cass wasn't picking up.

Sliding down the wall in the hallway Dean pocketed his phone and sighed.

Since meeting God and knowing most angels were big jerks Dean never bothered, but he was desperate.

He prayed, "Castiel, I really hope you can hear this or I'm just making a huge fool of myself. Anyways I know you don't owe anything to me or Sam but just let us know your alright. Call me on the phone, and we kinda got a situation here. Mick… he's been hurt pretty bad. Just get your feathery butt back here before I have to go searching for you."

Dean looked around half hoping for something to happen but dismissed the thought, "I don't really know how to end these things so I guess bye and amen?"

He dropped his hands to the ground before leaning his head back on the wall. This was gonna be a long day.

* * *

Dean walked into the room. Sam was sitting on a wooden chair beside the bed and Mick was still out cold.

"Cass?", Sam asked looking hopefully at Dean.

But the older Winchester just shook his head before looking over at his brother.

Sam was currently slouching and rubbing his own face, like he was trying to remove the dark circles lying underneath each eye. They'd both been up for a solid twenty-four hours about now and they'd both evaded a good long sleep for days now.

"Sam, go get some winks. I can keep an eye on him", Dean said falling into another chair.

"No, I'm fine. Besides I've got an idea. You know the demon cure ritual I performed on you", Sam said his eyes lighting up.

"How could I forget… what of it?", Dean replied confused.

"I had a contact at the hospital, that's where I got the blood bags. Maybe I can get see if I can get some more", Sam said.

Dean raised a brow, "And do what? A transfusion? We don't even know his blood type."

"We don't need to", Sam said quickly, "I'll get O negative and some equipment. Running a transfusion can't be too difficult."

Dean shook his head, "First of all, no. Second of all, hell no. We could end up killing him."

Sam took a deep breath, "I know. But I don't think we have a choice. I've been monitoring his pulse, it's dropping every hour. He's lost so much blood, if we don't do anything he'll die for sure."

Dean had to admit that Sam was right. And if they could pull this off, he'd have a better chance.

"Especially since Cass is still missing in action. Fine, looks like we're gonna be playing doctor", Dean frowned, "See if you can get some meds while you're there. I can't imagine what pain he'll be in if he should wake up and all we have is Tylenol."

Sam nodded going to stand, "I'll try to get back as soon as I can. Call me if there is trouble."

Dean stood, "Sure, you go. And see if you can get ahold of Mom while you're out. I tried her an hour ago but it went to voicemail. She should know about this."

Sam nodded, "What if she's with Ketch?"

"All the more reason to give her a warning, get her away from that creep", Dean said sternly.

And then Dean was alone. Not entirely alone, Mick was there but it wasn't like he was much company at this point.

In the meantime Dean grabbed his laptop and began some research.

He stared at the empty search bar for a few seconds before typing out a few words and clicking the first link.

 _Survival rate of gunshot head trauma is 5%._

 _Quality of aftercare living and full recovery 3%._

And that was with medical care.

Dean shut the laptop, "So much for research", he whispered.

But what was the rate of people escaping hell, coming back to life, or surviving a fight with Lucifer on multiple occasions. Dean would bet those odds would be nearly zero yet they've done it all.

Feeling a bit better Dean settled down listening carefully for Mick's breaths.

* * *

Dean woke with a start. First he was confused that he was sitting on an uncomfortable wooden chair and not in bed before realizing what had transpired the last 24 hours.

And the sound again.

Jumping to his feet he saw Mick had turned to his side, the blankets all bunched around the end of the bed. His hands were grasping at his own skull, eyes closed tightly.

And then let out a hoarse wordless cry.

"Mick!", Dean called coming next to the man trying to stop the man from harming himself further.

He cursed himself for falling asleep, he didn't know how long Mick had been in this unconscious state of agony.

The man was drenched in sweat yet he was shivering like he was covered in ice. Dean pulled Micks arms away from his head, "Mick, relax man. You're going to hurt yourself!"

Micks eyes shot open, anguish written across his features staring directly at Dean. For a second Dean was reminded of his time in Hell, the sheer pain and tortured screams.

"I didn't want to", Mick muttered, his eyes focusing in on Dean, "She made me, the code demanded it. Timmy-

He shook away the memories of hell focusing in on Micks words. Timmy?

The man rambled for a minute more before thrashing out again. Dean grabbed Micks shoulders pinning him down, the Englishman shook and fought for a minute or so before promptly passing out.

"Mick?", Dean called out taking his hands off his shoulders, "Don't die on me man."

Quickly he grabbed his wrist fumbling for a pulse. He waited and sure enough there was a beat. Mick was still alive.

Dean returned to sit down and placed his head in his hands, that was too close. Mick was resting soundly now so he grabbed his cell phone and noticed the time, it had only been two hours since Sam had left.

He called.

"Dean", Sam answered, "Heading back now. Everything ok?"

Dean bit his lip, "Went south a few minutes ago but he seems stable now. Just hurry back."

He could hear Sam worry through the phone, "Be there in 15. I was also able to get ahold of mom. She said she's coming back as soon as she can, but she's somewhere out west so it may be awhile."

"Great", Dean sighed, "See you soon".

Sam hung up.

Dean frowned, how the hell were they going to set up a transfusion. He knew they would manage but cursed their bad luck as of late. Losing Kelly, missing the shot on Dagon and now Mick. The older Winchester was angry, angry at the world, at Cass not picking up his phone and at himself.

Dean stood and checked Micks pulse once more before dropping his limp arm back onto the bed.

"Be right back", Dean said to Mick knowing very well he couldn't hear him, "I need a beer."

* * *

It took them an hour but the transfusion was set up and pumping blood into Micks arm. Dean couldn't stomach looking as Sam took a needle to Micks arm like a pincushion, leaving a mess of a bruise.

It was like stabbing a wet noodle, Sam complained but they eventually got it. Sam had even had been able to grab an IV station and a saline drip.

"Ambitious Sammy, really need to send your medical contact a gift basket or something", Dean joked as Sam checked over the tubing.

"But actually. I can't believe we were able to set this up", Sam said taking a seat.

"It was all you Dr. Winchester", Dean said patting Sam on the back, "Now what?"

"Now… we wait", Sam sighed, "What happened when I was out getting the supplies."

Dean frowned taking a seat, "He woke up…sort of. I admit I dozed off a bit and when I woke he was in a lot of pain-

Sam looked down, "Good thing I got the morphine… Did he say anything?"

"Not really, nothing that made sense. Something about the code and someone named Timmy", Dean replied, "He wasn't all there."

"At least he was able to speak? That's good right?", Sam said.

"Its not bad", Dean said shrugging, "I think. We will see."

Over the next few hours the Winchesters had moved a table into the small guest room and were staring at their laptop screens. Sam dove into his research on Nephilims while Dean worked on finding Kelly. Neither made much progress but it was the distraction that mattered.

Dean looked over and saw Sam slumped over his computer eyes struggling to stay open.

"Sam", Dean called earning his attention, "Your choice, take a few hours of sleep or get coffee for both of us."

Sam rubbed his eyes before closing his laptop, "Coffee. Be right back"

Dean nodded watching Sam stand and let out a yawn before heading to the door.

"Where am I?"

Dean stood and Sam froze. They both looked over at the bed to Mick. Blue eyes were staring at them, confused and tired.

He was awake.

* * *

 _Hey sorry for the abrupt ending (sorry for so many breaks). I really wanted to get y'all a chapter soon so I wrote the last part really quickly. As always let me know if there are any spelling errors or inaccuracies. I really tried to be true to the characters. Thanks for reading!_

 _Spoilers:_

 _Looks like Mick is truly dead, Mary discovered his body last episode (S12E20), I really hope Sam and Dean will find out soon and go after Ketch. I'm going to keep writing this story to honor his character. I think it's a shame that they waited so long for someone (Mary) to discover Mick was really dead. Anyways thanks again and happy reading._

 _-Sio_


	4. Chapter 4

_Sorry it took sooooooo long to update, I have always planned on continuing this story but faced some problems in where I was heading with it. So after writing and deleting and rewriting, I have something. Mick's finally awake so let's see if he's ok..._

 _-Sio_

* * *

"Where am I?", a hoarse voice whispered.

Dean could hardly believe it. He went to stand as Sam shook away the shock and moved to a chair closer to Mick. The younger Winchester looked between his brother and Mick before speaking, "Mick, you're in the bunker. It's us, Sam and Dean."

But Mick wasn't concentrating on them. He was awake however caught in a state of shock.

His eyes were open, wide and scared, looking toward the ceiling. It was obvious he was in a panic due to his rapid breaths and darting eyes.

He glanced over finally to Sam obviously trying to piece together what got him to this moment in time. At first he tried to speak again but then stopped, going to sit up. It was a mistake, he doubled in pain, his hands gripping at his head cursing out loud.

"Take it easy you've been hurt pretty bad", Sam said calmly leaning over Mick slightly trying to help.

A minute passed and the pain subsided leaving the man breathless and shaken. Mick closed his eyes before opening them again, like he wasn't sure he was awake. He still looked like death but at least he was conscious and functional.

"How am I here?", he said slowly looking around the room before fixating on the IV pole.

He then went to sit up only to be pushed back down by Dean, "Not yet, we don't want you keeling over just now."

Sam grabbed an extra pillow propping it behind the englishman so he didn't have strain to look around the room. But even so his eyes looked empty, his brow furrowed and lips pressed together.

A moment passed in silence before Sam spoke up, "How are you feeling?"

Mick reached up and touched the bandages around his head, "I'm fine...Could I possibly get some water?"

Sam nodded quickly, "Of course, be right back."

San looked at Dean passing on some silent words. They needed to find out what happened. He then left the room.

Dean cleared his voice, "There's no reason to keep a brave face, we know you're not fine. How much pain are you in?"

Mick closed his eyes opening them to show moist eyes brimming with unshed tears, "It's quite terrible, but I can manage."

"Right, I don't know if we can give you more of this good stuff", Dean said gesturing to the multiple bottles of medicine on the table, "I'm no doctor. Sam may know-

Dean frowned looking at Mick again who was looking at the IV in his arm.

"We really went all out. Hopefully you're out of the woods, this is the first time you've been fully conscious for about a day now", Dean said taking a sip of his beer.

"I appreciate that", Mick whispered, "I thought I was going to die…"

Dean swallowed, "You almost did. Mick, what happened? Who did this to you?"

Sam walked in with a glass of water and closed the door before giving it to Mick.

Mick took a shaky sip, coughing before Dean took it and placed the water on the side table.

"What happened?", Dean repeated again.

Mick shook his head, "I really don't know. It's all bits and pieces."

He took a second to go through the mess of memories coming back, "Was I shot?", he asked abruptly his voice shaking. Dean looked to Sam, this wasn't the conversation they were expecting. How much did he actually remember?

Sam nodded, "Yes, we think so. Do you remember anything maybe before it happened?"

Dean jumped in, "When you called you said someone was after you, after us? You mentioned Ketch."

It then all came back like a tidal wave and Micks face turned a sickly pale, "Arthur… he was there. I was at the safe house, answering for Renny's death, for losing Kelly and the Colt."

Mick bowed his head, "I broke the code, I was doing the right thing and she wouldn't listen."

"She?", Dean asked.

"Dr. Hess, elder of the British Men of Letters and Headmistress of Kendricks", Mick explained, "Before I could rest my case I felt this pain… when I came to I was in a pool of blood."

Sam sighed, "It must have been Ketch then, but to go as far as try to kill you? Why would he do that?"

Mick bit his lip, "I was in their way."

Dean shook his head, "That's messed up. I still don't understand how you got out of there."

Mick shrugged tiredly, "I had no choice. It's my fault this happened, they won't stop now."

Sam frowned, "What do you mean?"

Mick rubbed his eyes, "Hess has ordered the extermination of all American hunters."

Dean nearly choked on his beer, "You can't be serious. You can't just go around murdering people you disagree with".

"Hey, we will figure it out. Right now let's keep a level head", Sam said to Dean.

Dean nodded looking over at Mick, his hands grasped the sheets in front of him tightly, his lips pressed together.

"Sam, can we give Mick anymore meds?", Dean asked.

Sam looked at Mick realizing his pain and nodded, "Yes, sorry I should have given you awhile ago-

Sam added the fluid to the IV tube as Mick closed his eyes, "I'm fine…", he murmured.

Dean stood placing a hand on Micks shoulder, "No, you're not fine. But we'll be here until you are."

"Just get some rest", Sam said after giving a small smile.

Mick didn't know what to say. He never really had anyone look after him like this. Although he was in the British men of letters it was made clear that each of every one of them was expendable. He quickly learned his place was among books while Ketch prospered in elimination of monsters. They all had their job, and learned not to rely on one another.

But Sam and Dean cared, something Mick wasn't accustomed to. He felt his heart swell with a happiness he had never felt before,

"Thanks lads", he said grinning, "I'll give a shout if I need anything but you both look like you need a proper rest."

Dean shrugged, "Never an eight hours a day kind of guy, but I should probably get a few hours. Sam?"

The younger Winchester frowned looking to Mick, "You sure?"

Mick nodded, "Of course."

Sam looked unconvinced but conceded, "Alright then, we'll be right down the hall. I'll come and check on you in a few."

Dean had alreadygrabbed his laptop and was at the door, "Rest up buddy, glad you're ok."

Mick sighed, "Me too."

Then they left shutting the light so that the only source of light was a dim table lamp.

Mick knew he needed to sleep. He could hardly keep his eyes open and every movement felt cumbersome and slow.

And as the minutes passed in the dark he fell into himself and let the darkness take over.

He felt betrayed. Hurt, and lost. Losing his mind to rampant memories.

"I chose to do the right thing", he whispered to himself feeling tears well up in his eyes.

He wished for a stiff drink or a bottle of pills to take his mind off the burning thoughts. His eyes drifted to the table riddled with medicine and prescription bottles, but he forced himself to dismiss the urge.

Instead he closed his eyes focusing on each wheezing breath, in and out.

Until exhaustion took over.

* * *

When Sam returned to check on Mick, he found him asleep. He was on his side, arms awkwardly thrown in front of him and the sheets tangled around his legs.

Quietly he moved to check the IV stand.

It had only been two hours but Sam couldn't fall back asleep. He had only known Mick for a few months now but considered him a friend, and those came and went in his line of work.

Carefully he sat down on the wooden chair turning another lamp on before holding Micks wrist and checking for a pulse.

He looked at his watch, counting. His pulse was even better than before. They really had luck on their side.

"Sam?"

Mick was looking up at him, he looked slightly confused but mostly just tired.

"Hey, sorry I woke you. Just came to check in", Sam whispered.

"Thanks", he said trying to move against the bed frame, "How am I looking?"

Sam shrugged and took a seat, "Good, I mean considering what you've been through. Pretty good."

Mick sighed running a hand over his face, "In all honesty, I don't feel good."

Sam nodded, "I know, but trust me, you're near out of the woods. I'm afraid there isn't much else I can do."

"That's not what I meant", Mick whispered, "I just…"

Mick stopped for a second, "Its just, I failed. I failed you and the American hunters. I have to be frank with you Sam, Ketch will not stop. He will kill anyone, do anything to remedy this situation."

Sam didn't say anything. He was shocked and even scared but Sam couldn't find himself blaming Mick.

"We will deal with Ketch when the time comes but this isn't your fault. I mean, you did what you thought was right and at the end of the day, you have to live with your decisions", Sam explained, "I've done plenty of things I'm not proud of. Eventually you have to forgive yourself."

Mick felt his heart drop, he had learned to carry around the burden of guilt since Timothy. And with every misstep the burden weighed heavier and heavier on his mind.

He didn't know how to let go.

"I don't know if I can", Mick said honestly, "But I will try."

Sam smiled, "That's a start. Let me change you bandages while you're up."

Mick nodded sitting up further. Sam went and got an armful of supplies before putting gloves on each of his massive hands.

Mick moved to sit facing the wall as Sam stood behind him moving the IV stand over.

Unconsciously he flinched as Sam touched the bandage on his head and started to unravel.

"Let me know if this hurts you", Sam said sternly.

Mick didn't say anything, just grasping the sheets in front of him feeling an accumulation of sweat settle on his skin leaving a chill.

"Mick, remember to breath", Sam said placing a hand on his shoulder.

Mick didn't know why he was so nervous. He took a shaky breath in and out before feeling the air on his head.

Sam dropped the bundle of bandages on the table behind him, it was covered in dried blood. Looking he felt his stomach flip and head start to spin.

"Bleeding finally stopped. Just gonna clean it out some more and put new bandages", Sam said.

But Mick could barely process the words, he closed his eyes hoping it would help but felt his body go slack.

"Mick!", Sam called catching his shoulders before he fell forwards.

Sam came around in front of him, "Hey, Mick. Focus on me, what's going on?"

"Sorry, got dizzy", he mumbled trying to focus on Sam but instead saw double, "Feels like the first time I got legless."

Sam raised a brow but tried not to let Mick see he was worried.

"Here, try to lay down and maybe it'll pass. I'll finish up bandaging", Sam said.

The last thing he needed was Mick smashing his head.

Mick nodded falling to his stomach resting his hands under his head. The next few minutes were agony.

"Sorry", Sam said as he flushed the wound with solution earning a hoarse cry. Mick felt like hell, his whole body was shaking as Sam finished bandaging his head.

"Done", Sam announced looking over Mick who was breathing heavily with his eyes pressed closed, "Mick… you're going to be alright. I'm sorry, I know that was rough."

Mick felt unconsciousness pressing against his mind, he doubled against it. It was embarrassing enough to be a sobbing mess in front of Sam.

"I'm fine", he lied moving his hands so he could push himself up, but he didn't expect his arms to feel like jelly.

Sam had moved to place the supplies he had retrieved to the side and throwing out the used gauze.

The younger Winchester felt awkward seeing this side of Mick, completely vulnerable. He only saw Mick break down that one time after letting Eileen go after warring with the code. It seemed now he was afraid of asking for help despite his obvious struggling.

"I know this isn't easy", Sam started, placing the last of supplies down, "But there is no shame is asking for help, especially among friends."

He placed a hand on Micks shoulder helping him come to sit at the edge of the bed. Mick was flustered, his breathing heavy and hand resting on his chest.

Mick looked up at Sam with clear blue eyes, "I know how to ask for help", he whispered averting his gaze.

Sam took a seat across from him on a wooden chair, "Then what is it?"

Mick swallowed deeply, "I am afraid I do not deserve it."

Sam looked at Mick who seemed deep in his own thoughts. It was the look Mick got in the kitchen a few weeks back after speaking of his childhood.

"I can't stop thinking about it Sam. Since I woke up", he stammered, "You should have left me to die."

"Thinking about what?", Sam asked confused, "What's going on?"

Mick shook his head, "I'm sorry I can't seem to control my emotions. I don't know what's happening."

Sam was warned this could happen. Micks had undergone trauma with unknown consequences, his brain although intact from what Sam could tell had suffered from the shot. Behavioral changes were to be a side-effect. They were lucky it wasn't worse than this.

"It's common with head injury", Sam said quickly, "There's no need to be alarmed. It should subside."

Mick didn't look convinced but didn't say anything. Sam wasn't about to let this go, whatever Mick was thinking about was heavy. He didn't want to force the man to talk about it, yet Sam knew that look. It was eating him up.

"Talk to me, I know you don't want to but you can't go on like this", Sam urged, "We've all done things we're ashamed of."

Mick looked up, tears forming on his eyes but he just cursed pursing his lips, "Before I say anything further, I wish to convey that if you wish me to leave after this. I would understand."

Sam nodded. Not that he would ever kick Mick out.

Mick sighed, "As you know I was schooled at Kendricks."

"Hogwarts for hunting", Sam smiled.

Mick cracked a grin but it faded quickly, "Yes, well besides being taught about monsters we were conditioned to be ruthless and above that expendable agents. We were taught that in this job, our lives were dedicated to the extermination of monsters and casualties were to be expected."

"I stayed because I thought I was doing the right thing. That was until I faced an impossible challenge", Mick stopped.

"Mick, death is a part of hunting, as much as I wish it weren't. We lose hunters all the time", Sam said.

"The challenge, was not against a monster. I was locked in a room by Dr. Hess with my best friend at the time Timmy-

Mick stopped, looking at the ground, "Hess said only one of us would leave the room and placed a blade on the desk beside us. Sam, I killed Timmy. He pleaded but I didn't listen. I am a monster."

Sam felt his stomach drop, "How old were you?"

"Twelve.

"Jesus Mick…", Sam breathed, "That's bad man, I'm sorry but you do understand that it's not your fault."

"How do you mean?", Mick said incredulously. He knew he shouldn't have told Sam, but the burden was heavy and he was weak.

"Hess gave the orders, if it wasn't Timmy it would have been you- and I bet that if both of you took a stand she would have killed both of you", Sam shuddered. This woman, Dr. Hess seemed like a nightmare. Who would do such a thing to children?

Mick shook his head, not knowing how to respond. All these years he blamed himself, Hess was the closest thing he had to a parent. Not that she had any motherly qualities.

"That doesn't change the fact that I killed an innocent, have continued to kill innocents", Mick looked up to Sam, "All for the code."

Sam couldn't hide his shock. Mick had killed that girl in Wisconsin- she was a werewolf but ultimately innocent. Yet, they had all done unspeakable things…

It was then the door opened to show Dean with one hand holding his laptop open and the other on the door. His face was riddled with confusion.

"I just got an email", Dean announced eyes glued to Mick.

Sam raised a brow, "So? From who?"

Dean looked to Mick and then back to Sam, "From Mick."

* * *

They were all sitting around the table in the map room. Mick had insisted on the removal of his IV and joined the Winchesters. Sam wasn't pleased but didn't press him.

It had been two days since he had been shot by Ketch and his anger toward the man seemed to increase by the minute.

Just reading through the email on Dean's laptop he felt his heart race and teeth clench, Ketch was his friend. He _was_ a friend, perhaps his only friend in the British Men of Letters. Immediately he could tell from the language of the email it was him.

"Its Ketch", Mick said after a minute pushing the laptop back toward Dean, "It seems he doesn't know I'm here yet."

Sam raised a brow, "Of course not. How would he know?"

Mick shrugged, "He most likely knows I escaped. Where else would I go?"

"Right", Dean said sipping his beer, "But now Ketch expects us to go to Wisconsin to track this case, this is wrong. We're not going right?"

Sam nodded, "Of course not, it's obvious he's trying to lure us somewhere."

Mick was quiet, a hand rubbing his own tired eyes before sighing, "Yes, but you must go. If you don't go, he will suspect you're hiding something."

Dean chuckled, "So what? We can take that bastard down."

Mick just about rolled his eyes but winced as his head flared in pain before looking to Dean, "I don't doubt that however it's not just Ketch. He has all of the British Men of Letters behind him. It won't be easy. It would be best to play along until we can make a plan."

Sam shook his head in disbelief, "And what about you?", he said looking at Mick.

"I could tag along?", Mick said hesitantly.

"No, Mick. In case you forgot you were shot not two days ago. It's a miracle you're even alive right now. You couldn't handle a hunt, you could barely make it down the hall", Sam responded sternly.

"Sammy", Dean said trying to calm him down, "It's ok."

Mick sighed, "No Dean, Sam's right. Then I don't have to go to Wisconsin, I could stay here in the bunker."

"Alone?"

"Why not?", Mick said now irritated, "I don't need a sitter. I can take care of myself."

Sam raised a brow scoffing, "Really? Then walk back to your room on your own, go ahead-

"Sam", Dean interrupted sharply.

Mick didn't understand Sam's sudden burst of anger, feeling himself grow more irritated. He was not helpless. But instead of lashing out he stared at the bruises along his arm where the IV once was. The blotchy purple mess was the least of his worries and yet at the moment it was bothersome. Maybe it was the only thing he could comprehend healing at the moment… in a few days it would be gone unlike the gunshot.

The younger Winchester had stopped his attack looking away from Mick and to the table, "Sorry, I don't know why…sorry."

Sam stood looking to Dean before leaving the room, "I need some air."

Dean watched as Sam left the room before returning to his beer. After a minute he spoke to Mick, "You're right, we have to take the case in Wisconsin. But we'll wait a few days before we go, just to be safe", Dean said slowly.

Mick nodded, "I didn't mean for all this to happen, I wish I could go back and stop all this nonsense."

Dean chuckled, "Don't we all. But this is where we are at. Sam's not angry you know".

Mick frowned, "He seemed pretty angry."

"He's worried, I mean we both are", Dean said sincerely, "We didn't know what happened and when we found you off the road…"

Mick waited watching as Dean furrowed his brows, obviously upset, "Sam and I have seemed some messed up shit but I don't think we ever expected to find you half-dead covered in your own blood. It's just been a rough few days. Nothing new to us".

Mick dropped his head, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you two to find me, but I'm grateful."

Dean smiled slightly before looking over toward the direction Sam went. He was worried about his brother, which again wasn't anything new, but it had been awhile since he had seen Sam like that. It was obvious Sam was concerned about Mick. Not that Dean wasn't, he was but knew that Sam had become quick friends with Mick. They both were on the same book loving, nerd level that Dean couldn't understand.

"Let's get you back to your room, I have a feeling you're gonna pass out, then I'll see to Sam", Dean said eyeing him carefully.

But Dean was right. Mick was already exhausted, his eyes growing heavier by the second and his body ached in ways he didn't think was possible. But nevertheless Mick shook his head, "Talk to Sam, I'll still be here when you get back."

"You sure?", Dean said going to stand watching as Mick nodded.

"Positive", he smiled.

"Just call out if you need anything, I'll be right back", Dean said standing and heading in the direction Sam went.

Mick waited until he heard Dean's footsteps fade away before reaching out- and opening Dean's laptop. He felt a sense of guilt as he tapped his fingers along the keyboard, but it would be for he best. Or at least that's what Mick thought at the time.

Quickly he moved through encryptions and entered the British Men of Letters server. He stopped for a second waiting, however he did not hear the Winchesters so continued on going through folders until he found what he was looking for.

"Brilliant", Mick whispered to himself, his eyes dancing across the screen before settling on a file.

Clicking the file, he read through the contents. He felt his heart race, his mind piecing together what he had to do next and when.

This was it, he knew where Ketch would be.

Exiting the server, he erased all contents of his search history before putting the laptop back.

South Carolina.

Ketch was going to pay.

* * *

 _So, I didn't want to keep Mick bed ridden for too long. Some more hurt/comfort Mick next chapter hopefully. Any tips/comments are much appreciated. And to the Guest reviewer that keeps reviewing thanks!_

 _-Sio_


	5. Chapter 5

_I'm alive! Sort of, kinda suffered through the summer hiatus but at least I got a ton of writing done. I may have diverged from Mick's character a bit, but nonetheless get ready for some angst! - Sio_

* * *

Dean opened the door outside the bunker carefully leaving it slightly open and walking toward the parked impala a few meters away.

The sun was already setting, a cool breeze washing over Lebenon, Kansas. Dean looked up to the sky seeing the beginning of stars appearing in the dark of the horizon. Then he saw Sam, he was sitting on the ground next to the Impala. He looked frustrated but beyond that tired. Dean didn't know when but his baby brother had aged well into adulthood. Certainly further than both of them would have guessed.

"Dean", Sam said looking up at his brother.

"Sammy", Dean replied taking a seat next to him, "What was that in there?"

Sam sighed shaking his head, "Nothing, just do you really feel it's best leaving Mick alone? After what happened?"

"No", Dean said, "But honestly it seems like our only choice right now."

"But-

"We'll wait a few days until he's a bit better but Micks right", Dean interjected, " If we don't go Ketch will know Mick's at the bunker plus this is likely a real case. Monsters still need to be hunted."

Sam leaned his head against the car, "I know, I just have a bad feeling. He said something to me, I think he's more messed up about this than he's letting on."

Dean nodded,, "Ketch shot him, I don't think he's ok or that he will be soon. He can't go back to that life.."

"I don't think he wants to… I think that he's just not gonna sit still and let us take care of this.", Sam said quietly.

"He can't go anywhere… as you said he can barely make it down the hall", Dean joked.

Sam shook his head, "Both of us know nothing will stop him, if he wants revenge."

Dean briefly thought about Azaezel and all those years his father spent going after him. Sacrificing his own life. It was different though, they wanted to avenge their mom. And Azazael was a demon, a monster. Ketch was human but that didn't mean he wasn't a monster. In fact Dean knew in his gut that Ketch was capable of evil. Perhaps more so than some of the supernatural creatures they've encountered.

But did Mick want revenge?

"We will keep an eye on him, but ultimately he's allowed to go after Ketch. No matter how stupid that would be in his state", Dean said looking to Sam, "You would stop him?"

Sam sighed, "Micks not a fighter. Ketch would kill him before he could get close."

"But he survived this far, I don't think he could face Ketch alone but he has more strength than we give him credit for", Dean said.

Sam chuckled, "Almost sounds like you guys are friends now."

Dean went to stand, "Maybe, but don't push it. We better get back."

Sam stood grasping his brothers hand as he helped him up, "Yeah, back to business."

As they reached the door they both heard a loud resounding bang.

Sam went wide eyed, "Mick!"

They both ran.

As they descended the stairs they saw Mick, just where they left him on the chair.

"Mick, what happened? What was that noise?", Sam asked.

Mick raised a brow, "Oh, I went to grab a beer and I seemed to have tipped it off the table."

It was so simple, hell he could crack into the Men of Letters database yet he couldn't grab and take a sip of beer without fumbling like a fool. Sam and Dean descended the stairs.

Dean saw the broken bottle first in fragments on the ground, "Mick", he said annoyed rubbing his temple.

He crossed his arms, "Not only did you waste a perfectly good beer but you aren't supposed to be drinking. No alcohol."

Sam nodded, "It wouldn't help", he added.

Mick smirked, "Eh but it wouldn't hurt?", he jested.

Then Micks smile faltered as his hands gripped on the chair he sat upon. He knew they were right. He caught the sight of the broken bottle on the floor before looking up to Sam.

Pity.

All he saw was pity on Sam's face and he couldn't stop the wave of anger he felt bubbling inside him. His cheeks grew red, he felt embarrassed.

And then the pain came back. Throbbing and aching, his blood hot and the air around him heavy like sand.

The perfect storm was brewing in his veins which made him yearn for the bottle even more.

"I'll clean this up", Dean sighed, "Sammy, go ahead and help Mick to his room."

"No!", he burst out, receiving looks of shock from both Winchesters.

The last thing he wanted at he moment was Sam helping him despite his exhaustion. Mick braced his hands on the side of the table and came to stand, his legs wavering slightly. He would make it down the hall.

He body screamed in protest at the first step but he willed his body forward. Going straight past the Winchesters he walked uneasily to the hall where he braced himself on every wall and doorway until he reached the room. Mick's heart raced in his chest, pounding in his ears. Hot sweat dripped down his spine, and nausea forced his hands to grip at his stomach.

Yet all he could focus on was his labored breaths. They were quick, and shallow. He willed oxygen into his lungs, spitting out the air.

Falling to the bed he stayed still until his breath slowed enough for him to push the dizziness from his mind.

The Englishman knew he was being stubborn yet he couldn't care at the moment. He felt trapped in this disabled state. All he felt was rage, filling his every movement, every thought.

It consumed him.

Mick wanted what he wanted.

A stiff drink and a bullet in Arthur Ketch's head. He didn't care about the cost...

* * *

Cass winced as he felt his phone buzz in his jacket pocket. It was no doubt Dean, calling once again.

Sighing he checked, the name across the screen: Dean Winchester

He pressed end before placing his phone back in his pocket.

The angel had received the Winchesters messages and heard the voicemails.

As well as the prayer which not only shocked Cass but convinced the angel to check his phone in the first place.

It was not that he was ignoring Dean, in fact quite the opposite. He was working to protect both Sam and Dean from danger.

In truth, Cass never expected to be back in heaven. Not on such good terms, and not so soon. It was not a joyous occasion either, the cohort of angels he had spend a millennia watching the world with were gone. Some at his own hand. The remainder of his brothers and sisters were the younger generation, the weight of heaven now resting on their shoulders. Most resented him.

But Cass knew working with them was their best shot at finding Kelly and Lucifers spawn, as well as conquering Dagon.

If Lucifers son was to be born upon the world, a new age of terror would begin. Stopping the birth of this child trumped any and all situations.

Dean would have to wait.

Cass thought briefly of Mick, he was indeed injured and from what he heard badly enough to reach the doors of heaven before turning around.

It must have been by some will of God that saved the man, nothing less than a miracle. Another reason why Castiel was hesitant to interfere.

Not that he could. Leaving heaven now would be detrimental to the plan, they were close to finding Kelly. Their eyes were now set on Dagon; the only major barrier left.

His phone beeped. Another voicemail to listen to.

He would return to the Winchesters, he hoped Dean would understand.

* * *

Dean and Sam finished packing the impala. They had pulled the car into the garage and were careful not to forget anything for the upcoming hunt. But at this point it was routine, years of hunting had conditioned them to prepare for any possible encounter.

Sam was checking their supply of salt while Dean was filling up the impalas tank with gas.

"Dean", Sam called out, "We're two boxes short of salt, probably should stop at a store on the way."

Dean grumbled, "Don't think this will be a salt and burn case but sure, if we pass a store."

Sam knew Dean was thinking about Castiel. It had been weeks now since they'd heard from the angel. But it wasn't out of the normal for Cass to disappear for awhile, Sam couldn't blame the angel. He knew Cass could take care of himself.

As for Dean, he thought of the worst possible situations. That Cass was trapped somewhere, hurt or even dead. It almost bothered Dean more to think that the angel was possibly ignoring his calls, especially when he needed him at a time like this.

Not just the fact that Mick was hurt, but that they had lost Kelly and Dagon because they didn't have his backup. They were in this together and yet Cass was nowhere to be found.

They would leave tomorrow morning for Wisconsin. And Mick would be staying at the bunker.

Since his burst a few days ago Mick had stayed rather quiet in his room. He allowed Sam to come in a check his bandages and he left every so often to get food. But besides that he let his beard grow out, his hair usually tame was uncombed.

Dean even offered him a beer hoping it would help him snap out of this state but he refused. The Winchesters hoped the phase would pass soon. The only positive was that Mick's recovery was going well, enough that he could walk around on his own and be mostly independent.

Mick was now in his room on the bed, reading a large tome about Wendigo behavior. He had little experience with these creatures being that they were almost nonexistent in Europe and found the creature to be especially terrifying.

Stretching out he was glad for once that his pants didn't fall past his ankles, Dean was grateful enough to lend him some clothes that fit much better than Sam's.

He did chuckle a bit when he looked in the bathroom mirror that morning. With full beard, unkept hair and flannels he couldn't help but feel like he was a typical American hunter.

The white bandages were still pressed tightly around his head, but he barely noticed. However the pain was still there, Mick doubted it was leave anytime soon.

Looking down at the book he read the next line, "...then the Wendigo often returns to its underground structure. It will carry the scent of its prey, once marked it can transverse large wooded areas to track down the hunted."

Frustratingly efficient hunters. He knew they Winchesters had dealt with a few over the years and itched to ask them of their experience yet decided against it.

It was hard enough that he couldn't help the Winchesters in this hunt, on top of the fact that he had been lying.

Once they left for the hunt he was going to leave.

Mick had thought about it long and hard. It wasn't the smartest idea but it was necessary. He knew the inner workings of the Men of Letters. He knew Ketch, it wouldn't be long until they started after ever single hunter in North America.

To him, leaving was the only choice. He couldn't go hide away like a coward while Ketch and Hess were still out there.

The Winchesters wouldn't understand, they didn't know what they were capable of.

Mick looked up startled after hearing a knock at the door. He knew it was either Sam or Dean but still felt his heart quicken.

Reluctantly he called out and the door opened.

It was Sam.

"Hey", he said slowly, "Looks like we are leaving tomorrow morning for Wisconsin."

Mick nodded, "Very good."

Sam cleared his throat, "Yeah, shouldn't take more than a day or two but Dean's going to leave his laptop. You should be able to email us through that, until you get a phone."

Mick cringed at the awkward conversation, "Indeed."

Sam finally let out a sigh sitting on a chair near the bed, "I know you're angry we aren't taking you along but it's for the best."

Mick raised a brow confused, "Sam, in not angry at you or Dean."

Sam frowned, "Then what's been going on?"

Mick pressed his lips together, "If anything I've been frustrated at the situation. I did not mean to take that out on you two, I'm grateful for everything."

It wasn't a lie but it wasn't the truth. Mick knew he could lie for shit, avoiding Sam and Dean was the only way he could keep leaving a secret.

"Oh", Sam said, "Well, is there anything you need before we go?"

Mick inwardly thought, a gun, spellbook, running car...

But instead replied, "No, nothing at all."

Sam stood going to the door letting Mick go back to reading his book.

"Mick?", Sam said holding the door.

The Englishman looked up, Sams face was stern, almost angry.

"We will get Ketch. We will end Ketch and Hess for what they've done. I just want you to know, they won't get away with this."

Mick felt his mouth go dry, "I know", he said quietly.

And then the door closed.

* * *

They didn't say goodbye the next morning.

Probably because they thought he was asleep and the fact they left at 4am.

But Mick was awake. As soon as he heard the garage door close and the impalas engine revving he slipped out of his room. Slowly he assembled a backpack, he threw bandages inside, bottled water and a few extra sets of clothes. Then he searched for the maze of rooms in the basement, finding books and books and more books.

Then he unlatched a room finding an array of weaponry, most were old and dusty but in a small corner were more modern wears.

On a small wooden table was a handgun. He reached out, feeling the weight in his hand.

He checked the barrel, loaded.

With the safety on he placed the arm in his bag, he found his hands shaking as they came to grab the box of bullets on a nearby shelf. He felt sick to his stomach. Quickly he put the ammo away.

Micks vision darkened, it was too soon. In truth, he could barely look at the bullets let alone load a gun.

Hopefully when the time came that wouldn't be an issue.

Shaking off the feeling he gave another look around, he grabbed a knife. Maybe that would be better...

Quickly he made his way back up to the main level, backpack now heavy on his shoulder. He was already out of breath, a true testament to his current state. Brute force wouldn't be the way, he had to make a plan. Rely on precision.

Mick was already at a deficit being he knew little of Americas, let along driving alone to South Carolina.

He knew it would be a long and tedious journey.

Slipping into the drivers seat of one of the Winchesters many vehicles he smiled seeing the key was already in the ignition.

It was an old car, black with a row of seats in the back. He hoped it would run and survive the 20 hour trip without breaking down. Who knew when was the last time the vehicle ran.

Whether it was gods work or just sheer luck the car started up. Mick threw his backpack on the passenger seat and set off.

There was no turning back.

* * *

 _Mick left the bunker! And he's going to face Ketch! Let's just say the likelihood of Mick getting through this unscathed is quite low..._

 _-Sio_


	6. Chapter 6

_Hmmm, well I truly regret the amount of time that has passed between now and the last time I published a chapter. I tried to write and rewrite this chapter several times, but this is what I ended with. I want to thank all of you that have kept me writing when I thought I was done, I will try my best to keep going. I have 20 more pages to edit and publish so I will try to get that out soon. -_ SIO

* * *

Ketch stood on the outskirts of a thick forest. It was hot and buggy outside which didn't make his current attire pleasant. Sometimes he grew tired of the full suit and dress shoes, especially when trekking through the American wilderness. Frowning he starred down at his oxfords which were now marred with dirt.

At least he had no need for a Kevlar vest, he wasn't doing much hunting today. Not that there wasn't a target. Simply he wasn't the one doing the hunting.

Walking past the crate currently settled on the back of a large black truck he heard its contents growl. Stepping back, he eyed the creature. Of course, he couldn't see it, the hellhound inside. Yet he knew it was staring at him. It _desperately_ wanted out.

Waving the piece of cloth again in front of the crate the hound snarled deeply. It had the scent.

"Good girl", he smiled.

He didn't prefer using the hellhound to hunt, however he had grown to like the creature and appreciated its ability to track its prey. Their target had fled into the woods once she discovered she was cornered. Hess ordered her to be tracked down following the death of Renny. They had followed her from Ireland and back to the states to a motel room in South Carolina.

Eileen Leahy would be the first of many hunters to be taken care of, following Dr. Hess's new orders.

The second if you counted Mick.

"Davies", Ketch muttered softly to himself.

He had to admit he missed the man, it was a shame he had to die in such a pointless way. But he didn't feel any guilt, in fact he thought of how Mick's body was now rotting in an unmarked grave. To Arthur, Mick was given mercy, more than most.

Unknown to Ketch, Mick was a short way away parked on the adjacent road.

Mick knew he was cutting it close. If he didn't act soon he would lose Ketch.

The Englishman wondered what could attract Ketch to this part of the states, wishing the reports he found disclosed more about the mission at hand.

Taking a shaky sip of water, he willed himself out of the driver's seat and to the trunk of the vehicle. It was hard not to admit he was nervous, he usually didn't act like this. Going head first into danger with a loaded gun and a barely fleshed out plan.

He pulled a black baseball cap over his head, carefully hiding his white bandages and covering the back of his head. It wouldn't do much but keep the stark whiteness of his bandages from keeping him camouflaged in the woods.

He then pulled a black coat around him and placed his knife in one pocket and extra rounds in the other with his keys in his jean pocket.

Mick finally took the gun in his hands and closed the trunk softly.

Surprisingly he didn't feel nervous anymore, he felt angry. Betrayed.

He imaged pulling the trigger, the bullet impaling Ketch. This anger felt unnatural...

For a minute he allowed himself to be consumed with rage, Ketch would die. Then he set off.

It was late in the night, there were no lights except the distant street lamps on the nearest road. The further in he went, the taller the trees were with thick roots sprawled across the dirt ground. The heat didn't help, soon he felt exhaustion as sweat dripped down his skin. Taking a moment, he stopped trying to ignore his own labored breathing.

Mick then quietly leaned against the bark of a tree holding his gun close.

He listened, his heart beating hard and fast.

Mick heard the chirping of crickets, a distant hoot from an owl and the trees creaking in the light breeze.

Then he heard something else, a snap of a branch and frantic breathing.

Looking around he saw something he didn't expect, it was a woman. She looked like hell, her clothes covered in dirt and mud. Her pants were torn at the knee and her arm was generously bleeding.

Mick then lowered his gun as he realized who it was. Eileen.

Last he saw her was days ago, yards away from the end of his pistol. Something he rather regretted. Mick never thought he'd see her again.

Suddenly Eileen turned around, facing an empty clearing. From the darkness he heard a bloodthirsty growl, but he saw nothing in the darkness.

She drew her pistol shooting several shots into the darkness. But none hit the invisible creature.

Mick scooted around the tree to get a better view near higher ground, but his foot caught on a root and he fell to the ground. Bracing his hands on the muddy ground he scrambled ahead.

Cursing he slowly pulled himself up, looking up to see several yards away now Eileen on the ground backing away from her assailant. His mind raced with what it could be, what invisible monster could this be?

There was no time to think. Eileen was trapped. And he couldn't just stand by-

Mick drew his gun jumping forward and firing his pistol into the forest. Whatever it was he hit the creature, it cried out backing off. But seconds later it returned.

He shot the creature several times moving closer to Eileen until she was safely behind him.

"Mick?", she said shocked.

He turned and grabbed her arm. She immediately fought against him.

"I'm trying to help you!", he said looking at her straight on hoping she understood.

She nodded, "How can I believe you?"

Mick kept dragging her along, "You don't have a choice. Here", he said pushing the car keys into her hand, "Go to my car up toward the road, go to the bunker! The Winchesters will know what to do."

Eileen looked shocked, "What about you?"

Mick shook his head, "I'll be fine, now go! Before it comes back."

She nodded and then looked at Mick one last time before running up toward the road.

Mick turned around, at this point he had figured out what the creature was. It had to be none other than a hellhound. Nothing could stop it, at least none of the weaponry he had at the moment. He hoped it wouldn't return soon.

But the real question was where the hellhound came from, and where was Ketch.

He moved in the direction the beast fled. It was then he heard a voice muttering.

"Where did that damn wench go-

It was Ketch.

Mick squatted down fumbling in his pocket for more bullets. His fingers grasped each bullet slowly clicking each one into the chambers of the pistol. He then heard a high pitch sound, like a whistle coming from the direction Ketch went.

Was he controlling the hellhound? That didn't seem possible.

Mick took a shaky breath out biting his lower lip before stepping out to the clearing. There he was, Ketch, out several yards in front of him. He had not seen him yet.

This was it.

He aimed and shot toward Ketch.

But Ketch was too fast, he dodged the shot. But just barely, cutting into his arm.

But just as he dodged his gun was out aiming right toward Mick.

However, Mick didn't stop, he shot every round toward him.

He felt tears welling in his eyes, as he shot at Ketch. The man had betrayed him, shot him and now all he wanted was Ketch dead.

His bullets ran dry. Ketch had retreated behind a tree.

"Ketch!", Mick yelled, "Show yourself!"

Arthur stepped out slowly, "Mick Davies? It can't be, I'm pretty sure I killed you."

Mick stepped forward fuming, "You shot me! Ketch how could you-

Ketch raised his gun causing Mick to stop in his steps.

Arthur kept his eyes fixed on Davies, "You were compromised. Which is obvious now. Hess was right, you aren't of any use to us."

Mick kept quiet looking down the barrel of the gun, Ketch had his gun aimed at his head. Point blank. There was nothing he could do.

"Then kill me Ketch. But know, the American hunters will stop you. The Winchesters will stop you", Mitch said lowering his now empty gun to his side.

Ketch chuckled, "Is that so? You should know better than that, we always prepared. The Winchesters won't be a problem for much longer…"

"What have you done?", Mick seethed.

Ketch shrugged, "Not me per se, you see your spot has been filled by our very own Lady Bevell. And I'm sure you remember her specific talents in psychological manipulation."

Ketch paused for a moment, "It wasn't easy, but necessary. Taking the Winchesters out is a pillar than must topple before the building goes and luckily we have someone very close to them."

Mitch felt his heart skip a beat. They had Mary.

"Mary? Why are you doing this?", Mick asked carefully, "Ketch, they're people. You can't control or hunt them like animals!"

"It is necessary. Just like finishing you", he finished raising his gun again.

Mick took a sharp breath thinking as quickly as he could under the circumstances. He needed to tell the Winchesters about Mary. He stared at Ketch carefully as the man walked closer to him, keeping his weapon level.

"Just curious", Ketch continued casually, "How aren't you dead? Might as well be, you look like utter shit."

Mick didn't respond instead he decided to make a move. He took the pistol left useless in his hand and threw it at Ketch who stepped back allowing Mick to throw himself forward.

Pulling the knife he had in his pocket he was able to bring Ketch to the ground stabbing at the man. Ketch fought wildly growling as Mick slashed into his shoulder.

Ketch caught his arm throwing the knife to the side to which Mick threw his punches, hitting at Arthur's face hard and fast. Mick ran on adrenaline feeling the skin of his knuckles break as it connected with Ketch's face again and again. Blood burst from a split lip splattering down his bruised face.

It wasn't enough, it took a moment for Ketch to grasp his arm and throw him to the side. Sitting up he watched as Ketch rolled over before taking his head and butting him hard in the skull.

Mick choked back a cry as pain radiated through his head. His vision darkened, and his body went limp. It was as if he was shot all over again. He writhed on the cold ground waiting for the pain to pass.

When he came to he was on his back against the ground, the weight of Ketch holding him down.

Looking up he saw Ketch's battered face was covered in blood dripping from his nose.

That's all he saw until punches came down upon his face, over and over again.

Ketch finally stopped, but by then he couldn't move or speak. His breaths came out in short wheezes, he could barely breath. He felt like he was dying.

Mick felt himself being lifted, his cap had fallen off, bandages ripped off his head.

"Mick you stupid fool. You should have stayed away", Ketch muttered looking at his healing bullet wound before throwing him back down.

Mick cracked his eyes open, struggling against Ketch's grip.

"Mick, what did you think you'd accomplish. Did you think you could really kill me?", Ketch chuckled wiping blood from his mouth.

"Yeah", he spat at Ketch, "I did you bloody bastard! We were brothers, and you shot me!"

Ketch shook his head, "I know, we were, but orders are orders. And now you've failed, and you will now wish I killed you the first time", he seethed before punching him straight in the gut.

Mick curled to his side as Ketch stood up and walked to his fallen gun before picking it up.

Slowly he walked back over aiming at Mick, "You made me do this, you betrayed the Men of Letters! How could you choose them over us? Those filthy American hunters!"

Ketch pressed the trigger shooting straight into Mick's thigh.

Mick yelled out, his body shaking and heaving. His fingers clawed at the stream of blood flowing from his leg.

Ketch waited for a minute, yet Micks eyes didn't close. He clung to consciousness staring daggers at Ketch.

"Now, now. I'm surprised you haven't passed out yet", Ketch chuckled, "How many shots can Mick Davies survive?"

Davies moaned in pain feeling unconsciousness closing in, his vision fading. He thought of Eileen, hoping she was able to escape.

And then to the Winchesters. They had tried so hard to bring him back from the brink of death and now here he was.

Another shot rang out.

Mick's shoulder exploded in pain. Every breath was a burden, his eyes closed focusing on breathing, but he knew it was ending.

"Goodbye Mick, stay dead this time, won't you?"

Walking past Mick he pulled out his phone pressing a few numbers, "Its Ketch, anyone have eyes on Leahy?"

There was a pause.

Ketch sighed, "If she left the perimeter there is no use sending the hound, we'll find her again. Tell Lady Bevell we lost her, she'll take point. I have some finishing up here."

The call ended.

Ketch walked up to Mick.

The man was lying awkwardly on his back, his face was bloodied and bruised. His leg was still dripping blood as well as his arm.

To anyone he would have looked dead except Ketch knew better, he crouched down and placed his hand above the man's mouth feeling for air.

After several seconds he felt one weak gasp.

"Bollocks", Ketch whispered incredulously.

Quickly he grabbed both of the man's arms and pulled him into the forest. He pulled him until his arms burned and then some.

Finally, he rested Mick against a large tree before taking one final look at him. It was dark out, he would be needing to turn back soon.

He should shoot him right there, end his suffering. Be sure this time.

His phone buzzed, it was Toni Bevell.

"This is Ketch", he answered.

"Arthur, where are you? Hess wants an update. Get back to the base", Toni complained, "I will leave you here."

Ketch cleared his throat, "Very well, I will be along shortly."

He hung up staring at Mick.

Ketch drew his gun, with full intention to shoot Mick between the eyes. It would be painless, quick. But found his gun lowering...

Ketch then left, deciding the animals would take care of him.

Eileen drove and drove until the car broke down.

For once she didn't know what to do. She couldn't call the Winchesters, not without her laptop. All her supplies were back at her motel room in South Carolina. She had no money and was stuck at the side of a highway miles from Kansas.

Her arm had stopped bleeding a while ago but it still needed care, there were no medical supplies she had at the moment.

Or were there?

She hadn't searched the car yet and had assumed it was empty. Taking out the keys she opened the glovebox and found a few water bottles and some sparse papers.

Quickly she drank one, thankful for the supplies. She got out of the vehicle going to the backseat where she found a backpack tucked under the seat.

Pulling it out she searched its contents. A paper map, a few rolls of gauze, change of clothes and a roll of cash.

She almost cried at her luck. Taking a minute, she hoped into the back seat and pulled off her mud stained shirt and jacket.

Quickly she pulled a plain white t-shirt on, it was much too big for her but it didn't matter.

She then cleaned out her bloodied arm and wrapped the wound. It would have to do for now.

She placed the roll of cash in her pocket and proceeded to the trunk.

Opening the lid, she found a tank of gasoline, it was a little light but not empty.

And in the back corner there was an old box of salt, some empty vials that probably once contained ingredients for a spell and a rusty old knife.

She picked up the knife, upon further inspection she found it wasn't rusty but tarnished. It was silver.

Better than nothing.

Sighing she thought of Mick, she wouldn't be alive if it weren't for him. But he had tried to kill her back when she was after Dagon.

When she shot that kid, Renny.

Eileen was still haunted by that event. She didn't mean to kill the boy, it was an accident and she wished every day that it didn't happen.

But it did happen and Mick, he didn't kill her. Eileen wasn't sure why Mick was there back in the woods in South Carolina but she was thankful. More so now realizing that Mick was likely now in danger himself.

Filling up the tank of the car she knew she had to find the Winchesters, and fast.

Drawing out her phone she saw its battery life dwindling, her finger running through her contacts until she reached Sam.

Quickly she sent him a text, better than nothing. He had to know about Mick.

Jumping into the driver's seat she jammed the key into the ignition. Praying she turned the key hoping the old vehicle would start up.

After several minutes of trying the engine came to life. Eileen took down the road, she would survive this.

* * *

I _had to save Eileen, she really didn't deserve to die. There will be more of her in the future! And Mick really messed up... but he had a few more tricks up his sleeve. Please let me know what you think, your reviews keep me going! Thanks all! -SIO_


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